


The Life God

by temptresslove



Series: Power Couple [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Multi, hades x persephone au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22987276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptresslove/pseuds/temptresslove
Summary: Hades sees the god mortals call Persephone for the first time and is instantly smitten.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Power Couple [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1264598
Comments: 114
Kudos: 1783
Collections: Love these stuff UwU





	The Life God

Tom had been on his way back to the Underworld when the God of Death saw _him._

He was young, a new generation god. A son of Grindelwald and Lily. 

Tom wondered how Albus had not yet murdered the boy when he was so beautiful, a direct challenge to Albus’ own fabled beauty. A testimony to Gellert’s own charm and Lily’s beauty. Albus was always so jealous of the lovers Grindelwald had.

Luscious dark hair, sinfully full lips, and heavenly pale skin. And those eyes. Big, luminous green eyes.

Persephone, that’s what the mortals call him.

He was carefully tending to his plants, talking to them in clear, melodic tones, laughing merrily as he told them they how beautiful they were in bloom. He moved with a certain fluidity, soft, unhurried, graceful.

Sweat was glistening in his neck, his lithe long neck, as it was warm—spring, his own season.

Tom didn’t move.

Most gods had consorts.

Aphrodite has once thrown herself at Tom’s feet… the vapid love goddess who was only vain through and through. It was distasteful. Since then Tom has taken careful steps not to show himself to any of the other divinities…

He watches behind the tree, quiet as always. The life god whispers quietly, lovingly into the earth and slowly, plants begin to grow.

It has been a week.

Tom wonders how Lily has bargained for this boy’s innocence when surely Gellert would want to influence the boy as much as he could. But Harry looked pure, untouched.

That thought alone made Tom take a step forward. But he stops himself.

It was bad enough that the boy was the daughter of the Fertility goddess.

Tom was of death as he has always been. And this boy… this boy was of the living.

It could not be.

The God of the Skies would have his throat even before he could touch the boy.

* * *

“Master,” the urgent tone of his servant, Peter, forces him to look at his servant in irritation. Everyone knew he was not to be disturbed during his rounds.

“What is it, Peter?”

The servant trembles and he swallows. “Th-there is a living soul in the Underworld.”

Tom’s face darkens and Peter covers his ears with his hands as the souls in punishment scream louder in agony.

_“A living soul?”_ Tom asks thunderously.

It is a wonder how Peter manages not to faint.

* * *

For a moment, Tom wonders if it is an illusion. Fate daring to play with him when they knew what he could do to them.

“I’ve seen you,” the boy says softly, eyes wide. “You’ve been visiting the meadow.”

Tom doesn’t answer for a long time. Only looks at him.

“Are you lost?” Tom finally asks. Did fate deliver him right into Tom’s hands?

A faint blush appears on the boys cheeks. “Y—ye—“ Then he shakes his head as if he’s decided against something. “ _No_.” A sudden hardness filled his eyes. “I followed you here.”

“On whose orders?” Tom asks angrily. This was probably Gellert and Albus playing with him.

The boy shakes. “N-no one.”

How dare the boy lie to him. _“Do you know who I am?”_ Tom asks, barely containing his voice.

The boy shakes again but his chin remains upward, proud. “No. That’s why I’m here.” The boy says determined. “I want to know who you are and why you come to the meadow.”

The boy was trembling still, the hardness in his eyes do not go away. Lily was fiercely protective of her harvests. The boy was probably the same. He wanted to protect the life he has spent his whole life working on. Tom was dark and radiated darkness and death. The very opposite to this life god.

Tom looks at the boy. He was much smaller in person, much shorter too. More beautiful even up close.

“I am Hades,” Tom introduces himself with the name the mortals worship him by. “The ruler of the Underworld.”

The boy’s face does not change. Instead, he swallows. 

He is not surprised, Tom realized amusedly. Like he was expecting it, and merely confirming a suspicion. 

“Persephone,” the young god says. “Harry, given to me by my mother.” Then he is quiet. He looks at Tom expectantly. Harry cocks his head to the side.

“Speak, child.” Tom commands, curious to know what was on his mind.

“You didn’t answer my second question,” Harry says, looking even more determined than before. “Why do you come to the meadow?”

Tom stills. There’s hardness in the boy’s eyes he hasn’t seen when the boy tended to his… plants. “Do you wish me to stop?”

The boy blushes again. He does not answer.“I want to know why.”

* * *

The God of the Underworld looks at him with his dark blue eyes. He looks unfazed, almost bored.

And Harry instantly wonders if it was the right decision to come here.

Harry had heard the mortals say “handsome like a greek god” before. 

Harry never knew what it meant until now. Until he met the god of the Underworld. Who moved slowly, deliberately, _surely_ as if he had all the time in the world. Which Harry supposed, he had. Considering he was the Master of Death and that meant he could never die. A title the god of the skies must have given to him by mistake. Because from what Harry heard from the nymphs, Gellert hated Tom and had given him the Underworld in resentment but he did not know it would grant him the power of cheating death. 

Gods were immortal, yes. But there were ways to kill them or at least make them sleep for a very long time. Like a millenia or so. Not Tom though.

Of course he’d heard about he God of the Underworld—formidable and cruel. 

Zeus hated him. 

And Harry never understood until he set his eyes on him. 

Any god would hate him. 

Hades, the most handsome god there ever was.

Sentenced and exiled into the underworld for the crime of being their mother’s favorite. Gellert held nothing against the Death God. An exiled Hades meant no one could see his face, experience the utter power that _dripped_ from his divinity. 

There was a relaxed aura around him, calm and contained. But strong. _Powerful._ Harry could feel it as strong as Zeus’ but it did not come out of him in all its glory. 

Harry wondered what could set off the god’s true power. 

Harry wondered why the God of Death had not challenged and declared war on his brother if he could easily outmatch him.

* * *

Tom offers to walk him back home. To _send_ him back home, Harry corrects himself.

Tom had said that Harry was a young god and he would not tolerate trespassing again the next time. The word _punishment_ hung in the air and really, all Harry could do was gulp. In fear or anticipation, he didn’t quite know.

What was a minor goddess compared to a member of the Holy Trinity? 

Tom was royal by all means… and the only god who was not married or lain with anyone. As far as Harry heard. Gellert has sired a ton of bastards outside his marriage with Albus. And Ariana, the God of the Sea… and her trail of demi-gods… Not Hades, though. Hades did not have any children. Let alone bastard children. Why?

“You do not have a consort,” Harry comments, hoping the god would not take offense.

“I do not,” Tom says, voice low and like velvet. And for once, Harry thinks maybe it is not so bad to die…

“Why?” Harry asks, looking at the incredibly organized Underworld. Was that—was that a _poster_ of instructions for the recently dead souls to read as they enter the Underworld? What the—

“Why should I?” Tom says simply.

“All the other gods have—“

“And all it has done is sire powerful half-blood children who make the mortal realm more complicated than it actually is.”

Tom was the only one who could talk this way. Harry is suddenly reminded of who it was he was talking to. This was a god who could not die, and therefore does not fear anything, not even speaking against the God of the Sky.

“One of Gellert’s bastards accidentally set fire to his town and now they are all dead, disrupting the smooth lines in the welcoming lobby.” Harry looks back again at the straight line the newly dead souls made. “The Underworld can only handle a number of people everyday and accidents like these make the transition from their world to ours unruly.”

Harry knew he should have cared about the other words in what Tom said. But all that kept ringing in his head was Tom saying ours. Ours. Harry quite liked how that sounded. Ours. To him and to Harry. Theirs. Their world.

“Not all of them are bad,” Harry starts awkwardly. Harry turned out pretty good, didn’t he? And children… aren’t so bad when they’re yours.

“Ah of course,” Tom says with a smirk. “A son of Zeus himself. Tell me, Harry,” Tom says eyes amused. “Do you have my brother’s powers?”

Harry’s hand instinctively goes to the lighting shaped scar on his forehead. “No,” he says instantly. “All I have is this.” He presses his hand towards his scar. His mother told him Zeus had branded him when he was young, claiming him as his… to avoid being spited by his mother. “All I have is the power of life.” Harry says.

“Some would say that is all you’ll ever need.” Tom laments. “Without life, there would be no death.” Harry stops walking, feeling himself getting warm all over his body.

Did things like that just come naturally out of his mouth? Was this man just effortlessly charming? That would explain why he was Gaea’s favorite son.

“And then where would you be without me?” Harry tries to say playfully. At least he hoped it sounded playful and as natural as Tom sounded.

Tom looks at him. Eyes dark, a true god of death. “Where indeed.” He says.

Harry looks around the Underworld. He looks out of place. Everything is dark and elegant. Like its master. Harry, on the other hand…

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps he should not have come. But… But he had to try. He was already here.

“We should only pass the meadows and you’ll be home.” Tom says. Harry nods. They were near. Harry was going to miss his chance. He could already see the meadows… The meadows… Harry’s eyes widen. The _meadows_!

“Do flowers grow here?” Harry asks with wide eyes, hoping his innocent looks worked against even the God of Death. He was the god of harvest. It would only seem fitting to be interested in life where there is death. It would sound normal, expected even, of him. Tom would not suspect a thing.

“Yes.” Tom says.

And Harry knows he has not yet passed his chance.

* * *

Harry was a contrast to his dark kingdom. He was light, dressed in a green sheer cloth that teased a view of his pale skin.

Tom had cleverly avoided the boy’s question by threatening him. He was in the Underworld where no gods were permitted to enter. The boy had looked at him with his wide green eyes and started crying.

Tom mustered up all the authority he had and said he would give him a chance. But he was never going to set foot in the Underworld again. The boy nodded weakly, slender fingers making their way into his eyes to wipe his tears away.

The next thing Tom knew, he was walking the boy home as he walked slowly. Maybe Tom had overdone scaring the boy. He was still young after all.

They were nearing the end. With a few more steps, the boy would be back home. And Tom would have to settle for watching him behind trees again.

He was Gellert’s son. Tom had been avoiding his brother’s pointless anger, not to mention Albus’ jealousy, for a long time now and he had been succeeding.

“We should only pass the meadows and you’ll be home.” Tom says casually. Tom waits for Harry to take the bait. It was a rarity. Harry would be intrigued. He wouldn’t be able to resist.

Harry’s eyes widen, and Tom knows victory is his. He keeps his face composed. Harry has fallen for the trap.

“Do flowers grow here?” Harry asks excitedly.

Tom fights the urge to smirk.

If it came down to war, then so be it.

* * *

Harry drops to his knees as he sees the asphodel flowers. Tom watches him silently. It is the same face the life god makes when he makes a flower bloom in his own meadow. 

He is entranced as he should be.

Asphodel flowers only grew in the Underworld. And Tom always made sure that everything was in their best shape no matter their purpose in his kingdom. Harry would find no fault even on the tiniest flower, Tom thinks smugly.

“They need more water.” Harry says, a frown on his face.

“Excuse me?” Tom asks coldly.

Harry looks taken aback, forgetting who he was talking to. “Forgive me, my lord. But… th-they need more water,” he says again, avoiding looking at Tom in the eye. “The petals should look moist, dewy.” Harry explains. “Instead they are a bit dull.”

Tom is silent. Harry wishes he didn’t open his mouth. But he had to say something. He had today something so—

“Harry,” Tom says, voice serious. Harry holds his breath. “What would you say to a business agreement?”

Harry almost smiles. Tom, the God of the Underworld, has fallen right into his trap.

* * *

Harry knew he was beautiful.

A trait he got from both his father and his mother.

But perhaps he got all of his countenance from his father—cold, cruel, _greedy_ ambition that flowed in his blood.

He had hidden it from his mother, of course. His mother who could not understand the true power of the gods. His mother who looked upon mortals as precious beings.

Still, he was thankful of his mother who was protective of him. Fiercely guarding him from lesser gods and creatures who wanted him for marriage and even less. It was his beauty, she often told him, his beauty that made all of the world want him. Harry would nod, wide-eyed, and say, “you are too kind, mother”. Demeter would nod and smile at him, still vain in her heart as all goddesses are.

Harry thought of advantageous marriages, of what would strike envy into the heart of the nymphs who whispered behind his back.

Harry would see that none of them could ever utter his name without drowning in jealousy or fear. It was a pity he could not marry his father. 

What Olympian would have him? Perhaps he could seduce the War God Ares way from Aphrodite himself. But he would earn the ire of the love god and what match would his powers be against that? Hermes would never settle down. Artemis, he heard, was a bitch. Although, stripping her of her virgin goddess status would have been nice. Harry would go down in history as a temptress who could tempt even the most pious goddess.

He supposed he could be matched up with another of Zeus’ children. And he could make do with that. Ah, but how could he escape his mother? Perhaps he could ask his father, shout to the skies, beg for his help. Let him know that he is like him the most, that he is Zeus’ son through and through. Would he not show his favor upon a son that has gotten everything from him?

Harry had focused instead on honing his powers. He loved the life he could create, he thanked his mother for it. He loved the plants, the greens, the flowers, the fruits. He spoke to them, as was natural to him and his mother, gave them praises and offered them the powers at his fingertips. He would feel it within him, in his blood. He looked on at all the life that surrounded him. This was his job. This was what he was good at. He would take this power any other day than commanding lightning.

And yet, when he was being completely honest to himself, the part of him that was Zeus wanted that power. The power to command the skies, to strike down anyone who tried to defy him. But he did not. So he would look for a power like that in other ways, like an advantageous marriage.

So Harry could not really believe his luck when he saw _him_ one day as he was tending to his garden.

Dark and powerful, a power that called to him to _look_. But he had been careful, pretending instead to talk and laugh at his plants as his eyes carefully sought the intruder in their lands.

Harry instantly knew who he was. Only one god could look and feel like this. He was looking at Harry, and Harry was not sure. He could not see too far. But he was looking at Harry, could feel his eyes on him. If only he was nearer, he would know at once if that look was of passing curiosity or of lust, a look Harry was familiar with. Then Harry might know what to do next.

He tries laughing merrily, hoping to pique the god’s attention to his melodic laughter.

This was a chance of lifetime and he had to act fast, think fast. Should he let the god know he could feel him? Let him come to Harry? What would be most effective?

Harry looked up again and he was gone.

* * *

Harry picks a white dress.

His favorite dress. What a sight he’d make in these, Harry knew very well.

He smiles as Hades’ chariots appear silently, almost as if they’d always been there. Harry takes a deep breath and rides in it, the wind blowing in his face.

Harry knew that Tom would respond to insulting his flowers, Harry thought smugly. Everything in the Underworld was damn near perfect and Harry couldn’t quite believe that the asphodel flowers were blooming perfectly even without Harry’s help or influence. It was a blow to his pride. Still, he had to admit that he was very impressed.

But he needed to think quick. And he was right.

So he went there once a week to tend to the flowers as Tom asked him. The flowers certainly didn’t need it but Harry made sure to make his hands glow every time Hades watched just so he wouldn’t suspect a thing.

Harry liked to believe they were somehow friends now. Even if he suspected the Lord of the Underworld didn’t have friends, much as well understand the concept of it.

But they talked. Or rather Harry talked and asked questions. And believe it or not, he was always indulged with answers.

* * *

Tom didn’t know how it happened. He just knew that Harry started batting his eyelashes at him, dressed in those ridiculously suggestive white dress, and asked if he could show him Hades’ kingdom... and the next thing Tom knew, they were strolling around the Underworld, casually stopping every time Harry had questions.

Tom didn’t even realize that they were already making their way into Tartarus until it was too late.

He looks at Harry. Harry who has never seen pain or heard of it before. He probably did not even know what it was. Tom must protect him before—

“And those are?” Harry asks, eyes trailed upon the torture valley.

Tom’s face is serious. “Avert your eyes, life god. Those are for mortals who have been cruel all their life.”

“What is done to them?” Harry asks, eyes focused on the screaming souls.

“Every torture imaginable.” Tom says.

* * *

Harry has never felt more alive in his life. This is what it meant to truly live. Excitement like he’s never known flowed through his skin.

He hadn’t known this.

The screams of torture, the gush of blood, the pain that marred their faces…

So this is the real Underworld.

He turns to Tom with a haze on his head. He hopes the excitement does not show in his eyes, the eagerness, the lust. He wants this. He was made for this. 

He looks at the bident Tom was holding, “Can I try?” Harry with glazed eyes. Tom is quiet, eyes boring directly into Harry’s, his handsome face—Harry could not read. There was no emotion there. “Please.”

“I’m afraid I can only share that power with a royal consort.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart sank. Of course.

“But...” Tom says, face serious. “No one else has certainly tried before.” Then, in an action Harry doesn’t see coming, Hades tilts the bident towards him.

Harry moves his hand towards it slowly, hypnotized by the power emanating from it.

He takes the bident, and falters at the sheer weight of it. Tom catches him in time, keeps him steady. Harry shakes him off, mesmerized by the feel of it in his hands. “It’s fine,” he says, eyeing the bident with a gleam in his eyes. “I’m fine.” He looks at Tom intently. “What do I do next?”

“You make them scream.” Tom says simply.

* * *

It occurs to Tom that he does not really know how it works. It just does. He’s not even sure if others can do it.

Harry does not even look at him. His eyes are entirely focused on the souls awaiting judgement from their lord.

And then with an almost imperceptible movement, his hands tighten on the trident, it moves a fraction, his entire face changes and his eyes become darker.

And the next thing Tom hears are the souls screaming for mercy.

Harry is breathing heavily, eyes wide and gleaming with excitement, a small dark smile at his lips. Harry smirks. And the souls scream louder.

Tom has never seen anything more mesmerizing.

Tom cannot take his eyes away even if he wanted to.

* * *

Harry could barely contain his excitement whenever Tom’s carriage appears. It was a wonder how he’d kept this a secret from his mother. Harry was pretty sure he just looked _whipped_ most of the time.

Harry has been coming back the Underworld for a mortal’s year now.

But it was time to step up the game. 

From what Harry gathered from the nymphs, there was one sure way to cement his position in Tom’s life. And Harry had been waiting ever since for the perfect time.

There was no other time but now.

Harry looks at Peter who welcomed him when Tom was busy and could hardly believe his luck.

Peter was rather stupid.

“… and the fruits from Elysium are finally ready for harvest.” Harry sways, not really paying attention to what Peter was saying. He holds on to the servant.

“Life god!” Peter squeaks. “Is something the matter?”

“I think it’s my stomach,” Harry says. “I feel rather hungry.” Gods did not need sustenance. And Harry hoped that he was as stupid as he loo—

“Master has a whole collection of fruits,” Peter says happily. “They are the best—juicy and soft and sweet, perhaps you will like them.”

Harry almost smirks. How fortunate. It was like even fate wanted this for him.

“Oh, please, my headache—it’s getting a bit—“

“Yes, yes, life god, if you would just—“ Harry holds on to him and prepared himself for the apparition. In a split second they were in Tom’s, as Harry guessed, dining room. It was in the same shades of gray and black as found all throughout the Underworld. It was polished here, elegant, minimal.

Peter led Harry into one of the large chairs and he sat. With one snap, fruits of all kinds appeared on the table.

Harry cannot believe it. Was it really _this_ easy?

Harry took a pomegranate. Messy to eat. It would leave stains all over his hands as he ate them. But the look on Tom’s face when he sees those stains on Harry, when he realizes what Harry has done… it would be worth it.

Harry takes up the fruit, admires it, he takes his time. It would not matter how it would taste. It would taste like victory on his lips. A step closer to Tom. This would almost seal it. He just needed to make Tom see that he was worth it. That he could do it. He was beautiful. He was smart. Power coursed through him from his father’s blood.

Harry opens pomegranate. It looked like blood on his hands. He takes the seeds and eats it. Peter was right. It was juicy and sweet and soft. It trickled down his chin and Harry smiles. He feels it down his throat. 

It is done.

“Peter,” he purrs. “Thank you.”

Peter beams at him. “Aanything for a god my lord holds in such high esteem.”

Harry takes another seed into his mouth. Just a little bit more and he’d finally, finally—

_“Harry?”_

“Tom?” He tries to say happily. Harry stills instantly. He shouldn’t be back so early. He hasn’t finished the fruit yet, what if it doesn’t work–

_“What are you doing?”_ Tom bellows. God of Thunder? It should have belonged to him by the way his voice thundered across the room. He was angry. Peter has started shaking. The walls are darker than they should be. The souls outside are screaming louder. 

The God of Death was angry.

* * *

Tom watches Harry drive at the Underworld. He was dressed in white—fitting, since today was finally _the_ day.

Tom made sure to make Peter mention Elysium’s fruits. Harry was rather naive when it came to the Underworld. Surely, if his curiosity got the better of him… it only took one bite.

Tom watches from the shadows. Harry admires the fruit offered to him. He utters a prayer, a thanksgiving—a life god in admiration of life wherever it bloomed. His hands become messy from breaking the fruit open. It looks like blood on his hands. A true Mistress of the Underworld if Hades ever saw one. He takes the seed. He raises it to his lips... he takes a bite.

It was time to put on a show.

_“Harry?”_ Tom says loudly.

“Tom?” Harry looks at him with a smile. Fruit half-eaten in his hands.

_“What are you doing?”_ Tom bellows.

“I felt light-head–“

“We both know you are smarter than you parade to be, Harry.” Tom hisses angrily, suddenly in front of him. “You know what these will do to you.”

Harry hardens, eyes just as determined as when Tom first met him. “I did not think these would—“

“You did not _think_?” Tom storms. “Has your mother never warned you not to eat Underworld food?”

Suddenly, Harry’s eyes widen. His hands shake as he places his half-eaten pomegranate on the table. He stands. The fear in his eyes unmistakable. “What will he happen to me?”

Tom’s eyes glitter dangerously. Harry cannot escape him now. “You cannot leave the Underworld anymore.”

It is done.

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHAHA im so sorry ill do better next time HAHAHAHAHAHA also apparently you can only pomegranate seeds i-


End file.
